


La Lune

by bluefay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attempted Murder, Blood and Injury, Cliffhangers, Crime Scenes, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Fear, Friends to Lovers, Graphic Description of Corpses, Graphic Description of crime scenes, Gun Violence, Horror, Knife Violence, M/M, Murder, Murder Mystery, Neighbors, Serial Killers, Sharing a Bed, Suspense, Teacher Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:48:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27308731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluefay/pseuds/bluefay
Summary: When Harry and Draco's neighbors start dropping like flies, the last thing they expect is to be hunted down themselves.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 60





	La Lune

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! Happy Halloween! My wife and I are Halloween fanatics, so I knew that I had to write a little something for today! And although very different (and much shorter) than my usual fics, I'm pretty pleased with it! Lastly, shoutout to my wonderful beta, Rosalee, for helping me out!
> 
> I hope all of you have a safe and spooky day!

**Part I**

A siren pierced the pre-dawn air, waking Harry with a startle. As his eyes adjusted to the streams of pale moonlight flooding into his dark bedroom—his linen curtains not stopping any of it—he realized that the siren sounded as if it were drawing closer and closer. Sitting up, he clumsily reached for his glasses on the bedside table and looked around. Marcella, his pit bull puppy, was still fast asleep on her bed next to Harry’s, one of her hind legs twitching every few seconds. Not wanting to disrupt the rarity of Marcella’s sleep, he slid out of bed from the left and wandered towards his bedroom window.

Peeling back the curtains, Harry watched as an ambulance came barreling down his quiet suburban street, it’s bright blue lights illuminating the silhouettes of clouds drifting across the black sky. Knitting his eyebrows together as the ambulance came to a stop in front of his building, Harry’s curiosity was immediately raised. In the three years that he’d lived in his dingy flat on the outskirts of London, he’d only ever seen one ambulance come by; Mrs. White had suffered a heart attack and ended up dying en route to hospital.

Harry stood, debating whether or not to check out whatever it was that was going on. Years of being the one and only Savior had instilled a sort of hero complex in him that he’d never quite been able to shake off, and his first instinct was to see if his neighbors were alright.

If _Malfoy_ was alright.

Harry sighed, running a hand nervously through his thick curls. As much as he hated to admit it, he’s grown to care for Malfoy since he’d moved into the same building a few months back, living only three doors down. Although Draco had seemingly grown out of his blood-purist views that he’d held during their years at Hogwarts, he was still the same prickly, snarky prat that Harry had grown up with. And, in ways, that was comforting. So much had changed in the five years since the war, with Ron and Hermione getting married and having a child, Ginny and Luna moving in together, and Arthur dying.

Another round of blaring sirens jolted Harry from his thoughts, and he looked out the window once more. Four police vehicles had pulled up, and he watched as the officers wasted no time in heading towards the entrance to the lobby.

Having come to the decision that he was far too curious to let things slide, Harry hurried out of his bedroom and down the hallway, pulling on his winter coat once he reached the door. Just as he was about to turn the knob, a blood-chilling scream filled the still air.

Heart pounding, Harry stepped into the hallway that ran through the 6th floor. Looking to his left, he saw Malfoy locking his own door, clad in nothing but flannel pajamas and thickly padded slippers. After turning around, Malfoy caught Harry’s eyes.

“Of _course_ you’re going to see what’s happening,” Malfoy said, rolling his eyes as he stuck his hands into his trouser pockets.

“Did you hear that scream?” Harry asked, ignoring Malfoy’s comment.

“Obviously, Potter,” Malfoy said, wandering towards him. “I’m sure the entire neighborhood heard it.”

Harry frowned. “Where do you suppose it came from?”

Malfoy shrugged. “One of the lower floors, I imagine.”

“I think so too,” Harry said before hesitantly leaning towards Malfoy. “You have your wand, right?”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer, Potter,” Malfoy said, wandering towards the stairs. “Now, are we going to stand here like gits and talk about it, or are we actually going to go see what’s happened?”

Harry flipped him the bird in response.

As they descended the stairs, they were quickly joined by various Muggle neighbors, all of whom seemed just as curious as they were. However, it wasn’t until they reached the 2nd floor that they were met with what must have been the majority of the buildings’ tenants, some of them sobbing. One girl, no older than sixteen, was clinging to her mother and sobbing. Harry wondered if she had been the one to scream.

The tenants were gathered behind crime scene tape surrounding a flat halfway down the hall. Draco, being on the taller side, was able to cut his way through the crowd. Harry trailed behind as they made their way to the front, earning themselves several grumbles and rude comments. Even so, Harry didn’t notice, because what he saw fully stopped him in his tracks.

A young woman’s body was sprawled in the middle of the hallway. Her deep brown eyes were wide open, staring vacantly at the ceiling, and her skin had been drained of all color. Fresh bruises were blooming across her awkwardly positioned body, and there was a deep slash across her neck, nearly decapitating her. As Harry looked at the woman, transfixed, he felt his stomach give a heavy lurch.

The thick smell of copper filled the air, horrible amounts of crimson blood sprayed across the vanilla colored walls and ceiling. Even the carpet, which was a dark grey, showed large pools of blood.

Harry racked his brain, trying to recall times that he’d seen the woman in the building. He could vaguely remember running into her in the laundry room, although the encounter had been brief, having only exchanged polite pleasantries before the woman had left.

Harry didn’t even know her name.

“ _Merlin and Morgana,_ ” Malfoy muttered next to him, his face paler than usual. “I certainly wasn’t expecting this.”

“I’ll second that,” Harry said, his voice wobbly. “Do you know the woman?”

Malfoy shook his head. “I’ve seen her around, but I don’t know who she is.”

“Same here,” Harry said, letting out a heavy sigh. “God, who would do this?”

Malfoy looked towards Harry, his face solemn. “You and I both know that there are plenty of monsters out there.”

Just then, an officer wandered over, notebook in hand. “Excuse me, everyone. Please, settle down.”

The crowd went quiet, the only sound being that of crime scene cameras going off.

“Did anyone see anything?” the officer asked. “Anything at all. A person, a car, a shadow … ”

Slowly, a middle-aged woman next to Harry raised her hand. “I might have, Sir. I was taking my dog out for a wee around midnight towards the side of the building. I saw a man come out of the lobby doors, and he looked like he was in a hurry: fast paced, frantically looking around, a bin bag slung over his shoulder.”

The officer nodded, jotting the woman’s words down. “And did you happen to see what the man looked like, Ma’am?”

“Um, blond,” the woman began slowly, “shoulder-length hair, mustache. He was wearing jeans, a white shirt, and a blue zip-up jumper. Must have been six feet, or so. Stocky build.”

“Alright. Would you be willing to come down to the station so that we can take an official statement?” the officer asked.

The woman nodded. “Of course.”

The officer turned towards another officer that appeared to be standing guard near the entrance to the stairs. “O’ Conner!”

The officer’s head snapped up, straightening his posture. “Sir?”

“Please escort Ms. …,”

“MacDonald, Sir.”

“Ms. MacDonald to the station and take a statement from her,” the officer said.

The other officer nodded. “Sure thing. This way, Ms. MacDonald.”

After watching the woman disappear with the officer down the stairs, Harry turned back to the crime scene, unable to fathom how something like this could happen so close to him. He thought he’d been done with death the moment that Voldemort had died, but time had proven that this clearly wasn’t the case.

“Alright, you lot,” the officer with the notepad said, addressing the crowd, “unless any of you have any information to provide regarding the victim or a possible suspect, I suggest you all go back to your flats. There’s nothing else to see here.”

It took several more minutes of prodding from the officer before the tenants began to disperse, Harry and Draco being among them. As they climbed the stairs, Harry let out a long sigh.

“I don’t know how the bloody hell I’m supposed to sleep after this, and I’ve got a job interview in the morning,” he said, his voice raw.

“Me neither, if I’m being honest,” Malfoy said quietly. “What kind of job interview?”

“It’s a position at a secondary school thirty minutes away,” Harry said. “I’d be teaching P.E. The current teacher has taken ill, which is why I’m applying two months into the school year.”

“P.E.?”

“Physical education. Things like running, football, rugby, volleyball. Muggle sports,” Harry clarified.

Draco pursed his lips in thought. “Interesting. Seems oddly … fitting.”

The rest of the walk to the 6th floor was silent, and Harry’s mind swam with thoughts and questions regarding the woman downstairs. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t unsee her eyes.

When they reached the 6th floor, Harry turned to Malfoy. “Want to come in for a cuppa?”

After a moment of contemplation, Malfoy shrugged. “Sure. It’s not like I’m going to be sleeping, anyways.”

Humming in agreement, Harry unlocked the door to his flat. Once inside and the door was relocked, Harry led Draco to the couch in the living room.

“Make yourself at home while I get the tea going. What kind do you want? I’ve got English breakfast, Earl Grey, and peppermint,” Harry said.

“Peppermint, please,” Malfoy said.

“Sounds good.”

Harry wandered into the kitchen, only realizing how badly he was shaking when he began to fill the kettle with water from the tap, it’s tin body banging hollowly against the side of the sink. Taking a deep breath, Harry tried to calm himself.

_I’m alright._

The water finished boiling several minutes later. Harry picked out two mugs, one donning the Chudley Cannons logo and the other saying _Accio caffeine!_ on the side, and then prepared the tea.

Wandering into the living room with two steaming cups of peppermint tea in hand, he found Draco staring absently out the window. A light rain had begun to fall, cascading down in thin sheets, and Harry could hear its steady rhythm beating against the building’s roof.

“Here you go,” he said, setting Draco’s mug down on the coffee table.

Draco jumped, a bright flush blooming across his cheeks as he turned to face Harry. “Thanks, Potter.”

“Sure thing,” Harry said, taking a seat. “So.”

“So,” Draco parroted, picking up his mug and lifting it slowly to his lips.

Before either of them could start a conversation, Harry heard the soft pitter-patter of paws trotting down the hallway. Soon enough, Marcella’s white head popped around the corner, followed by her chubby body. She wandered over to the couch, immediately pawing at Harry’s trouser leg.

“Alright, alright,” Harry murmured, setting down his tea in lieu of picking Marcella up and placing her in his lap.

“She’s gotten so big,” Draco laughed, reaching out to scratch behind her ears. “She was barely the size of a Quaffle the last time I saw her.”

Harry grinned, patting Marcella on her stomach as she tried to playfully nip his fingers. “I know. She’s growing up way too fast.”

The conversation fizzled out after a few minutes, replaced with a thick blanket of silence. Harry stared absently at Marcella, who was nibbling the top of her paw, his mind churning. He could feel that his body was on edge, the dark hairs on his arms standing up, and he wanted nothing more than to be somewhere else. Somewhere that wasn’t tainted with murder.

“Do you suppose someone in the building did it?” Draco asked, interrupting the quiet.

Harry looked up, startled. “Dunno. Maybe, although the woman who saw the guy didn’t say she recognized him.”

“Oh, who knows. It was dark. Plus, he mightn’t have even been the killer,” Draco said, pausing to take a sip of his tea. “You know, it’s far more probable that she was killed by someone she knew.”

Harry snorted. “Brushing up on your Muggle true crime facts, have you?”

“Sod off. It’s good to know these things, especially since this is a Muggle neighborhood,” Draco said haughtily.

“I guess.”

Draco let out a heavy sigh, leaning his head against the back of the couch. “Do you think this was a one-time thing?”

“I hope so,” Harry said softly.

As the early morning continued on, a milky dawn eventually settling in over the city of London, Harry couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps the killer would return.

**Part II**

Three weeks later and Harry still hadn’t shaken the feeling that something was wrong. He’d spent every waking moment since the murder second-guessing everyone he came into contact with, wondering if they were the killer.

His mind was swimming with these thoughts as he began his drive home from work. Despite having been greatly distracted, he’d somehow managed to snag the P.E. teacher position, and he was enjoying it so far. Sure, the kids could be snotty and unenthusiastic, but it beat working at the Ministry.

Harry had initially wanted to be an Auror, even going so far as to begin his formal training. However, two weeks in he came to the conclusion that it simply wasn’t for him. He was done fighting, and he was done being Harry Potter.

So, he’d left the Wizarding World.

Funnily enough, Harry hadn’t been alone in that. From what Malfoy had described in their occasional late night chats, he’d also left the Wizarding World behind in exchange for a normal life. A mundane life. A life that wouldn’t leave him feeling hollow at the end of the day.

And yet here the both of them were, living four floors above where their neighbor, Claire Hanes, had been murdered.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry turned left, heading down a road that would take him through the forest that sat to the right of his flat’s building. The end-of-September evening was bitterly cold, a strong northern wind blowing through the towering trees on either side of the road. A thick fog hung low to the ground, causing Harry to squint in a desperate attempt to see where he was going.

Just as he had nearly reached the edge of the forest, Harry saw a shadow begin to move across the road. Before Harry knew what he was doing, he slammed on the break. His chest smacked hard into the steering wheel, disorienting him for a moment. Then, looking up, he realized that the shadow was gone.

Looking around, he saw nothing but the silhouettes of trees.

 _Merlin, calm down,_ Harry thought to himself as he began to drive again. _You’re being ridiculous. It was probably just a deer, or something._

Coming around a bend in the road and heading towards the car park, Harry was met with a scene that he’d desperately wished wouldn’t return. Flashing blue lights lit the sky like fireworks, and there was a line of police vehicles, ambulances, and news vans in front of the lobby doors.

Harry let out a shaky breath, parking his car as quickly as possible before walking into the building. He darted past the lobby, which was eerily empty, and headed up the flight of stairs that led to the first floor. As he climbed the steps, he could feel dread swelling in the pit of his stomach.

Once he reached the landing, Harry was immediately hit with the loudness of the hallway. Tenants were pressed together, talking to each other in panicked tones. After a minute of searching the crowd, Harry spotted Malfoy standing near the right wall. He began to shove his way through the mass of people, glaring at anyone who didn’t easily move. Eventually, he reached Malfoy.

Malfoy quickly took notice of him, nodding in greeting. “Hi, Potter.”

“What the hell happened?” Harry asked, not able to see over the collective height of people in front of him.

“Here, come closer to me,” Draco said, taking a small step to his right and revealing a window between shoulders that Harry could look through. “A man, the same age as Claire, was murdered about an hour ago. A little girl from the 4th floor found his body on her way in from playing outside. I’m surprised she didn’t run into the killer.”

As Harry stared at the gruesome sight in front of him, the man’s neck cut in the same way that Claire’s had been, he suddenly remembered the shadow that he’d seen moving across the road.

“Are you alright?” Malfoy asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Harry let out a heavy breath. “Yeah, sorry. I just … I think I might’ve seen something on the way in.”

Draco raised an eyebrow as he folded his arms across his chest. “Potter, what do you mean you saw _something_?"

“I mean that I saw … well … a shadow, I guess. I mean, it looked like a person. I was almost out of the forest when it ran across the road, and I had to break. Then, it disappeared.”

“You do realize you’ll need to tell this to an officer, right?” Malfoy murmured, barely loud enough to hear.

Harry swallowed thickly. “Yeah. I suppose so.”

“Well, go on then,” Malfoy said, nudging Harry forward.

☙☙☙

“Want anything to eat?” Harry asked from his kitchen.

“Merlin, _no._ I can’t bear to think of food right now,” Malfoy hollered back.

“Fair enough.”

After Harry had laid out Marcella’s dinner, he wandered into the living room. Malfoy was slouching on the couch, busy picking at a hangnail on his thumb that had started to bleed. Without realizing what he was doing, Harry reached out and grabbed Malfoy’s hand as he sat down. Suddenly feeling the weight of Malfoy’s hand in his, he paused, overtly aware that he was being stared at.

“Potter?”

Harry hesitantly looked up, momentarily forgetting that he probably should’ve let go of Malfoy’s hand by now. Instead, racing thoughts of imminent danger flashed across his mind.

“Would you stay the night?”

Malfoy blinked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

Harry let out a heavy breath. “Would … you stay the night? I don’t think I can handle being alone right now.”

“Oh. Okay,” Malfoy said, his cheeks flushing with color.

Harry let out a heavy breath, and before he knew it, he was leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Malfoy’s neck, tucking his head into the hollows of Malfoy’s shoulder. A sob ripped through his body.

Then, he felt Malfoy’s arms wrap around him, holding him close.

“What’s wrong?” Malfoy whispered.

“I’m so fucking scared,” Harry said, his voice cracking. “I thought I was done with death. With all of it. I can’t deal with this, Malfoy.”

Malfoy pulled back, gently tilting Harry’s chin upwards so that he was forced to maintain eye contact.

“It’s okay, Potter,” Malfoy murmured, glancing at Harry’s lips.

Harry shifted slightly, leaning forward. He could smell Draco’s aftershave, oranges and pine ― an intoxicating combination that made Harry’s thoughts fuzzy and incoherent. Years of memories filled his mind, flashes of Draco laughing with his friends in the corridors of Hogwarts. The teasing, the mocking, the inexplicable need to stare at Malfoy was what Harry had lived for, and he’d found himself sinking into the same feelings within the past few months. Malfoy had once more become a constant in his life, and Harry knew that he would never be able to say goodbye again.

Slowly, he realized that he was completely and utterly fucked.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Malfoy asked, leaning in so close that Harry could feel his warm breath.

Harry let out a quivering breath. “What are you thinking?”

“That I want to kiss you,” Malfoy whispered, his voice barely audible above the crackling logs in the fireplace.

Harry felt a surge of adrenaline pulsing through him, and he suddenly understood that he’d never been more certain about anything.

“Do it, then.”

Malfoy pressed their lips together, and Harry sighed into the kiss. Malfoy’s lips were sweet and warm, and Harry had never felt so drunk on lust. His hands began to wander, fingers resting lightly on the nape of Malfoy’s neck.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Malfoy hummed against Harry’s lips.

Harry pulled him closer. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since you moved here.”

Malfoy smiled softly. “Don’t stop thinking of me.”

“I won’t.”

And Harry didn’t. Not a single drop of fear crossed his mind until they had crawled into his bed well after midnight. As Harry lay there, limbs tangled with a sleeping Malfoy’s, his eyes kept flickering to the corner of the room.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched.

**Part III**

It wasn’t long before things were stirring up again in Harry and Malfoy’s neighborhood. Another woman had been killed in their building, and Harry had instantly recognized her as his next door neighbor. He knew that she was a student, having seen her lugging textbooks up the stairs more times than he could count. The murder had been identical to the previous two, her crime scene just as brutal. A witness’ description of the perpetrator matched the man from Claire’s murder, right down to the shaggy blonde hair and bulky build. Every time Harry stepped outside of his flat, he found himself staring at the large bloodstain on the carpet.

By the time the end of October rolled around, Malfoy had slept every night in Harry’s flat, neither of them willing to chance being alone.

Plus, the company was nice.

There had been touching―lots of touching―and Harry couldn’t remember a time where he’d felt more satisfied. There had also been several dates, the first of which being a trip to the local Muggle cinema, and Harry couldn’t get over how entranced Malfoy had looked, watching the screen in awe.

Marcella certainly hadn’t been complaining about the extra human hanging around. Her love had doubled up, and she often chose Malfoy’s lap over Harry’s. Ordinarily, Harry would have been bitter about the fact that he was now second choice. However, the sight of Malfoy snuggling Marcella was enough to make him forget his jealousy.

Halloween evening found Harry and Malfoy walking down the street, hand in hand, with Marcella tugging eagerly on her lead. The night was bitterly cold and eerily dark, silver moonlight from the waxing crescent moon barely filtering through the thick canopy of trees. Shadows danced across the asphalt, casting shapes and figures that didn’t exist.

Harry gripped his wand tightly in his right hand, tempted to send a _Stupefy_ at every rustling of leaves. He could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing up as a strong gust of wind rolled through the road, bending tree limbs and scattering patchy moonlight. Slowly, he managed to take a deep breath.

Next to him, Malfoy squeezed his hand in reassurance. “You alright, Potter?”

“Fine,” Harry said shortly.

There had been a noticeable contrast between his blind bravery during the war and the overwhelming feeling of fear that he felt nowadays, and he was often left wondering why he’d changed so much. Hermione had told him time and again that the war wasn’t just a thing to brush under the rug; it had happened, and it had left lasting scars on Harry. However, without his blanket of daringness and courage, Harry felt stripped of an identity that had protected him for years.

He felt abandoned.

Malfoy looked at him, his eyebrows raised with skepticism. “You’re an awful liar.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Am not.”

“It’s alright to be scared, you know,” Malfoy said softly, grabbing Harry’s shoulder so that they came to a pause. “Hell, I’m scared. Three people have been killed in our building, and I’ve got to admit that I really, _really_ don’t like those odds.”

Harry let out a heavy sigh. “No, I know that it’s okay―”

“You don’t, though,” Malfoy said sharply, interrupting him. “You still think that everything has to fall on you, and that’s just not the case anymore.”

Harry’s heart sank at Malfoy’s words. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Want to drop it?” Malfoy asked.

“Please.”

They continued on their stroll, Marcella whining impatiently for them to move faster. As they neared a bend in the road, Harry took the opportunity to lean into Malfoy, clinging to his lean frame for warmth. Malfoy looked down at him, surprised, before wrapping an arm around Harry’s back.

They walked like this for a while, holding each other while the darkness of night crept in further around them. A low hanging mist had begun to develop, thin wisps embracing the thicket of trees surrounding the road. If anything, the night had only grown eerier, shadows pressing in on them.

“I was thinking,” Malfoy began, interrupting the heavy blanket of silence, “that it’s about time we tell our friends about us. What do you think?”

A small smile spread across Harry’s face, and a flood of warmth filled his chest. He and Malfoy had come to the conclusion that it would be best if they didn’t mention anything to their friends until they were sure that their feelings for one another weren’t just a fluke. There had been so many instances where Harry had wanted to Floo Ron and Hermione, telling them every detail from a date, and yet he’d managed to force himself to wait.

Harry looked up at Malfoy, who was grinning at him, and smirked. “So, does this mean that you’re sure about us?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes, letting out a light laugh as he nudged Harry in the shoulder. “ _Yes,_ Potter. Merlin, do I have to spell everything out for you?”

“No,” Harry said, beaming, “although I do like it when you talk about how much you like me.”

“Do you?” Malfoy asked cheekily, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist as they came to a standstill in the middle of the road. “I think I can manage that.”

“Go on, then,” Harry said, well aware of the blush that was furiously spreading across the bridge of his nose.

“Well,” Malfoy murmured, “I’m awfully fond of you, in case you weren’t aware. These past few weeks with you have been the happiest moments of my life, and you make me feel like everything is finally falling into place.”

Harry leaned his head against Malfoy’s chest, closing his eyes as he listened to the steady thud of Malfoy’s heart. “You’re my everything, you know.”

Malfoy planted a soft kiss on the top of Harry’s head. “And you’re mine.”

They stayed there for a moment, _I love you_ blatantly absent from the tips of their tongues as they held each other in the quiet. Although it was too soon to say it, Harry knew that he loved Malfoy. It wasn’t some sudden thing that was occurring all too quickly; instead, Harry realized he’d been falling in love with Malfoy for years and years, and that this was only the beginning.

It wasn’t until Harry heard a crunch that he lifted his head, looking past Malfoy’s shoulder. Through the mist, he could make out the stocky silhouette of a man approaching them.

“Malfoy,” Harry said in a hurried whisper.

“Everything okay?” Malfoy asked, frowning.

Harry gritted his teeth. “Turn around.”

He watched as Malfoy took in the approaching figure, who was approaching at a rapid pace. Harry stayed behind Malfoy, drawing his wand. A wave of nausea rolled over him, causing his stomach to lurch.

“Potter, do you have your wand?” Malfoy muttered.

Harry nodded. “Yeah.”

“Good. Keep it drawn. Let’s cut through the forest,” Malfoy said.

They began to move, Malfoy scooping Marcella into his arms as they veered left from the road and headed into the woodland. Tall pine trees surrounded them, their crests blocking out any semblance of moonlight. The underbrush was thick and uneven, causing both Harry and Malfoy to trip on more than one occasion as they hurried further into the darkness. Harry glanced back every few seconds, his heart hammering against his chest as he caught sight of the man, who was still following them.

“Why don’t we Apparate?” Harry asked breathlessly.

“Can’t. We’re in a Muggle neighborhood with no Apparition point near us,” Malfoy said, glimpsing over his shoulder. “You know the Ministry wouldn’t hesitate to persecute me if I stepped one foot out of line.”

Harry nodded. “Alright. Come on, then. We need to run.”

And so they did, picking up the pace as they wove in between tree trunks. However, the loud cracking of twigs and dried leaves behind them only heightened, and Harry knew they were bound to lose this race.

“Go, Malfoy! I’ll keep him off,” Harry said, pointing ahead. “Our building should be just up there. Ring the police.”

“Potter, I’m not letting you go,” Malfoy said sharply.

“You have to,” Harry said, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. “You’re the faster runner. Go get help. _Please,_ Malfoy.”

After a moment, Malfoy nodded. “Okay. I’ll be back, I promise.”

“I know you will,” Harry said, giving him a sad smile. “Now go!”

“I love you, Harry,” Malfoy said before tearing away, his figure disappearing into the trees up ahead.

Harry stopped running and turned around, his chest heaving as he watched the man come to a stop two meters in front of him. He was the spitting image of the man who had been identified at two of the crime scenes: dark blonde hair that fell in loose waves to his broad shoulders, a thick handlebar mustache that bled into patchy beard stubble, and a stocky build. The man looked like he could rip Harry to shreds.

“What do you want?” Harry asked, his voice shaking.

“You live in that building, don’t you?” the man asked, skipping over Harry’s question as he took a few steps forward. “The building with all of those murders.”

Harry swallowed thickly, his instincts kicking in as he began to slowly back up. “No, I don’t.”

A wide, toothy smile spread across the man’s face. “Liar. I’ve seen you. 6th floor, flat number fourteen, correct? Your boyfriend has been staying with you since the second murder. You really ought to get better curtains. Everyone can see you fucking.”

Blood drained from Harry’s face, his mind spinning as he processed the fact that he’d been spied on. This man, whoever the bloody hell he was, was watching him and Malfoy, although Harry couldn’t figure out how. As far as he knew, the curtains in his flat had been fairly decent. Clearly, that would be something he’d have to fix.

If he survived, that is.

“Why us? Why our building?” Harry asked, continuing to back himself up until he ran into a tree trunk.

The man shrugged. “My ex-girlfriend lives on the 7th floor.”

Suddenly, it clicked.

“So,” Harry began, “this is about revenge, then? Why not just kill her?”

“There’s nothing satisfying about that, mate. I want her to live her last days in fear, not knowing who or what’s coming after her. I want her to watch all of her neighbors die one by one, knowing that she’s next. _I want her,_ ” the man said, his voice dipping low, “to feel afraid. Do you feel afraid, Harry?”

Harry let out a shuttery breath at the mention of his name as he ran his thumb along the length of his wand. Although it was clear he was dealing with a Muggle, he didn’t have any other form of defense. A decision had to be made, and fast.

Heart hammering against his chest, Harry silently counted to three.

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

As soon as he raised his wand, the tip igniting with blue light, a shot rang out against the silent night. For a moment, Harry wondered what had happened. Then, he felt the warmth.

Looking down, he could see a deep crimson bloodstain spreading across his hoodie. Putting a hand to his abdomen, Harry glanced up. Though his vision was beginning to swim, he could make out the rough silhouette of a gun in the man’s hand. He tried to take a step forward but staggered, his knees buckling under him. As he fell hard against the wet soil and dry leaves, darkness began to close in around him. His eyelids felt immensely heavy, and he was having trouble keeping them open. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he came to the conclusion that he must have been losing a lot of blood.

The thought of Draco crossed his mind, the words _I love you_ echoing in his ears. He briefly closed his eyes, tears spilling down his cheeks, and wished more than anything that he’d been able to say it back.

Then, nothing.

**Part IV**

When Harry woke, he wasn’t quite sure where he was. It certainly didn’t look like his flat, bright white lights flooding the room. He began to shift in an attempt to sit up, but a sharp pain shooting through his torso stopped him. Out of breath, he relented to just lifting his neck off what must have been a pillow, grabbed his glasses from the bedside table, and looked around.

As he caught sight of the intravenous pole sitting next to his bed, the overwhelming stench of rubbing alcohol hit him. Confused, he began to wrack his brain for reasons that he might have landed himself in the hospital.

Then, he remembered: the man, the forest, the gun.

Panic settling into his chest, Harry struggled once again to sit up, this time managing to slightly prop himself up on his elbows. Taking in the room, he realized that he was alone. The first thing that came to mind was Malfoy, and whether he was safe or not. Hell, he didn’t know if anyone in his building was safe. For all he knew, the man had gone on a killing rampage, murdering everyone in sight.

Harry just hoped that Malfoy had been able to get help in time.

Minutes passed, and Harry found himself perplexed as for what to do. He supposed he ought to let someone know that he was awake, although from where he was sitting, there was no doctor or nurse in sight.

After poking around for his wand, which he couldn’t manage to find, he resorted to his last option.

“Hello?” Harry yelled, his voice piercing the silent room. “Hello? Anyone there?”

He could hear a shuffle of footsteps outside of his room, and then Malfoy walked in through the door. He looked exhausted, dark shadows sitting beneath his glazed eyes. His hair was rumpled, as were his clothes, as though he’d been in them for quite some time. Nevertheless, he was grinning brightly.

“Potter, thank Merlin,” Malfoy said, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Harry’s forehead before pulling up a chair next to the bed. “I’ve been worried sick about you; we all have.”

As Harry laid back down, he reached his arm out and took Malfoy’s hand. “How long have I been out?”

“About thirty-six hours,” Malfoy said solemnly. “Everyone thought you wouldn’t make it at first.”

“Am I at St. Mungo’s?” Harry asked.

Malfoy shook his head. “No, you’re at a Muggle hospital. I rang the Muggle police when I got back to our building, and they sent you here.”

Harry frowned. “Will you fill me in on what happened?”

“Of course,” Malfoy said, giving Harry’s hand a squeeze. “Well, like I said, I rang the police as soon as I got back to our building. I described the man and the fact that you were still in the forest, and they immediately sent officers out. Marcella and I waited in the lobby for them. Once they arrived, I began walking them through the forest. We were only a few meters in when we heard the gunshot. While the police went after the man who shot you, I held you. You’d gone so pale, Harry, and your eyes were closed. We were lucky the ambulance came when it did.”

A soft smile spread across Harry’s face. “You called me Harry.”

Malfoy snorted. “Did not. That’s preposterous, Potter.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “ _You’re_ preposterous.”

Malfoy shot him a look. “Anyway, police caught the man ― a Muggle named Daniel Hurley. He’s in custody now. The only thing is … no one can figure out why he shot you.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, knitting his eyebrows together.

Malfoy sighed, running a hand nervously through his hair. “Don’t you think it’s a little strange that he had a gun with him if all of our neighbors were killed with a knife? It doesn’t fit.”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe he uses a gun as backup?”

“No,” Malfoy said, letting out a heavy sigh. “I don’t think he would’ve deviated from his knife. I … can’t help but wonder if this was a different person altogether.”

Harry gave a nervous laugh. “Come on, Malfoy. That’s ridiculous. Are you seriously thinking that there’s a second killer out there? And what about all of the descriptions matching Hurley?”

“Coincidence, maybe?” Malfoy suggested. “Think about it, Potter. None of it makes sense.”

Harry let out a defeated sigh, patting the bed space next to him. “Come on, let’s drop this. I’d much prefer to be snuggled right now. I _was_ shot, after all.”

Malfoy snorted, peeling back the thin blanket before slipping in next to Harry. “You’re cute when you’re demanding.”

“So I’ve been told,” Harry said, heat rising to his cheeks as he brushed a stray strand of hair from Malfoy’s eyes. “By the way, I have something I need to tell you.”

“Oh. Okay. What?” Malfoy asked, making a face.

“Well,” Harry began softly, reaching up to cup Malfoy’s cheek, “I just want you to know that I love you too.”

A harsh blush spread across Malfoy’s face. “You heard that?”

“Of course I did,” Harry said, shifting so that they were pressed against one another. “It meant the world to me.”

Malfoy offered him a small smile. “Yeah?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah.”

Then, without hesitation, he leaned in, pressing his lips against Draco’s. The kiss was short and sweet, and it was all Harry needed to feel at home.

Pulling back, Malfoy pressed a light kiss to the tip of Harry’s nose before glancing at his watch. “Well, it’s nearly one a.m. Do you think you can go back to sleep?”

“Definitely. Will you stay with me?” Harry asked.

“Always, Potter,” Malfoy said, winking at him before slipping out of bed and turning off the lights.

Once Malfoy was back in bed and Harry’s head was resting on his chest, all of his worries seemed to melt away: the killer had been caught, he had survived, and Malfoy loved him.

Yet, he couldn’t shake Malfoy’s words. _What if there was a second killer?_

As Harry gazed into the inky darkness, he swore he saw a pair of eyes staring back at him from the corner of the room.


End file.
